


Answered Prayers

by Arithanas



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Family, Gen, Night, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: The sea had taken a boy, and had returned a monster.





	Answered Prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redcandle17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/gifts).



> My gratitude to [Isis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis) for taking this beta work.

The boisterous and rancorous voices hit Old Manderly’s ears. Time had not been gentle with his old bones, and his brain was pickled with bad whiskey. Of course, New World rum would be better to appease the nagging rat that roamed his insides as he wandered the piers, but the New World had already taken too much from him.

Ten years of roaming the docks each night. Other husbands abandoned their tired wives to chase skirts, but not Manderly. He couldn’t sleep even if he wanted. With a tired groan, he sat on a pile of coiled lines, the yellowed pamphlets of paper  in his fist rustling. At the sound of the bells, Manderly bowed his head but prayers refused to tumble from his cracked lips.

More than ten years had passed since the last time he saw William, and in all that time, he hadn't managed to pray.   Each time he started to ask for mercy, he found himself damning the men who took his son. Curses were easier to utter than prayers, but his Christian upbringing proved harder to lose than a son.  If he could not pray, he must not curse. In his withered soul he still felt a horror of opening his mouth only to sin.

The putrid fog rose from the Thames, clogging his nostrils and bringing bile to his lips. Manderly wiped his mouth.  His eyes fell on the lines that his boy had written, long time ago. Since they had lost William, Manderly and his wife had been unable to write anything new.  Unable to write anything that could inspire a young man to resist the press gangs.

The heavy steps on the planks startled Manderly. The tall, large figure that came from a boat made the damp wood of the pier creak with a menacing tone. It was a man, big as Manderly’s himself was, once was once.  On his shoulder, a battered sea-chest was kept in place by a miracle of balance.

Manderly, out of habit, rose to meet him, the papers shaking in his aged fist.

The man stopped. One big hand went to hold the chest, and his eyes lost the glint of those men who roam the sea.

Old Manderly stood his place, pinned down by the overwhelming gaze of the apparition. That was a head he had held many a night. That night on the docks, Manderly learned the terrible burden of answered prayers .

“William.” The name escaped his lips against his will.

The man walked towards Manderly. His steps were more wary and the chest was less steady over his shoulder. Without a word, the man took one of the papers in Manderly’s fist, and then continued on his way.

There were no prayers in Manderly's mind any more, only his  son’s name, and he  repeated it with the desperation of a drowning man.

The sea had taken a boy, and had returned a monster.


End file.
